


Life Could Be A Dream (Except for All the Zombies)

by chalkwalkcartoonist



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: Gender-Neutral Runner Five, Runner Five has so much anxiety, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-03-07 13:23:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18874060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chalkwalkcartoonist/pseuds/chalkwalkcartoonist
Summary: A fic following Runner Five and the residents of Abel when the microphone is off.





	1. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Runner Five arrives at Abel.
> 
> Takes place after Episode 1: Jolly Alpha Five Niner

Sairy stumbles through the gates of Abel Township, clutching the CDC box from the hospital to their chest. They lurch to a halt and bend over double, resting one hand on their knees. The gate begins to screech slowly downward. The guards keep firing until it’s closed.

The people of Abel cluster around Sairy, asking if they’ve brought food, telling them to talk to the Major, offering greetings and excitement at seeing a new face. Sairy would very much like to listen, but they’re trying to keep their lungs from either catching fire or bleeding, because functional lungs are probably necessary in a post-apocalyptic hellscape.

“Runner Five!” says a familiar voice. The man from the radio. Sam. “It’s good to see you in the flesh. The… totally-unbroken-skin, not-bitten-by-zombies flesh?” His tone is skeptical.

Sairy looks up into a face that was probably round before hunger and stress stripped it down, topped by a frankly impressive mop of silky black hair. Sairy hasn’t been able to find conditioner since the outbreak, apparently because Sam Yao has it all.

Sairy straightens, swallowing hard against the urge to vomit from strain, and tries to smile. It comes out lopsided and pained. Sairy gives up and nods curtly instead.

Sam has no such problem showing his emotions, which are clearly tending toward relief. He smiles, and it wrinkles his nose and squeezes his eyes and makes the air around him seem a couple watts brighter. Sairy feels themself relaxing a bit just from looking at it.

The Abel residents are still crowding around shooting questions at Sairy. Sam makes vague shooing motions in the air. “Step back, step back everyone! Give them some space! They can’t take in so many new faces right now!”

Sairy barely has a moment to feel grateful before a voice out of the crowd catches their attention. “Is that the person they’ve sent for Project Greenshoot?”

Sairy’s head whips around. The speaker is a short woman in dirty running shoes. She meets Sairy’s eyes and gives them a smile like knives. Sairy swallows hard.

Another woman, taller and with eyes like glass, steps forward. “You’re the representative from Mullins Base, then. The one instructed to… help us erect the new shelters.” Her voice is as short and clipped as her hair. She scans Sairy, who feels impossibly slouchy and ragged under her gaze. “I am Colonel Janine DeLuca. This town is located on my farm, and I am in charge while the Major is away.”

Sairy stands to attention and fumbles in their pocket for their military ID. It’s not there. There’s a horrible moment of panic--where is it? Did it fall out in the crash?

They yank their military dog tags out from under their shirt and pull them off. They hold the chain out to Janine, who takes it and examines their tags closely. The knife-smiled woman peers over her shoulder at them before staring at Sairy like she could pull out all their secrets with her eyes alone. Sairy grits their teeth and stares into the middle distance like a good soldier.

“Runner Five was great,” Sam says, shifting from foot to foot beside Sairy. “Look, they got a box from the Center for Disease Control. The doc is over the moon about it.”

“What a great find,” the knife-smiled woman says. She sounds friendly enough, although her eyes are still trying to peel Sairy’s skin off their bones. “You certainly come bearing some valuable gifts.” Sairy, not knowing how to respond, remains at attention.

“Well, Corporal,” says Janine. She looks Sairy up and down again, then hands them their tags. “Welcome to Abel Township. Unfortunately, we do not have the resources to send you back to Mullins Base at this time, so your options are to remain here, or to strike out on your own, which I do not recommend.” Her eyes skewer Sairy to the spot. “Major DeSanta will want to speak with you when she returns. Until then, however, I expect you to pull your weight.”

Sairy nods. Understandable. Expected, even.

“You will begin runner training with Doctor Myers immediately. While you are in training, you will be expected to perform the usual rota of duties--latrine cleaning, kitchen work, trash duty. Runner Eight will show you the ropes.”

With that, Janine gives Sairy a nod, then turns and walks away. The knife-smiled woman--Runner Eight--puts her hands into her pockets and grins companionably. It is, unsurprisingly, not reassuring. Sairy scrunches their toes up in their boots.

“You got the box!” There’s another recognizable voice--the doctor from the radio. Sairy turns their head to find a short woman with a great deal of curly hair at their elbow, already pulling the CDC box from their grip. The woman flashes Sairy a smile that shows up brightly against her dark skin. “You don’t know what this could mean, Runner Five. Oh, sorry--I didn’t catch your actual name?”

Sairy opens their mouth, but nothing comes out. They hand Doctor Myers their dog tags instead, ears burning.

“Sarelle Williams,” Doctor Myers reads out loud. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Sarelle.”

“Ooh, that’s going to get confusing,” Sam remarks. Sairy looks at him quizzically out of the corner of their eye. “We’ve already got a Sara,” he explains, gesturing to Runner Eight, who smiles.

“Oh, I don’t mind,” she says. “Most people call me Runner Eight, anyway. Runners tend to end up getting called by their call signs, Five.” She winks. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Well, Sarelle or Five, we need to give you a quick medical exam,” Doctor Myers interjects. “It’s standard procedure after a dangerous run--you have to get examined by a qualified doctor, which is me, to make sure you haven’t got any bites or scrapes that might be infected. Come on, the medical tent is over here.”

The four of them set off through the maze of tents and fences. Myers and Sam point out the various features of Abel as they pass by. “That’s the farmhouse, up there on the hill--”

“That’s where Janine lives. She won’t let me in there any more after I spilled some Marmite on her papers. It was only a little bit anyway--”

“And over there is the school--”

“They’re planning on building real walls as soon as they can get the materials--”

“The mess hall is just past the building over there. It’s also a sort of impromptu gathering hall, there are Demons and Darkness meetings there all the time. Over on that side we’ve got the tents--”

“Janine is working on getting some more permanent housing up before winter hits--”

“But again, that’s waiting on materials--”

“And the farms are back the way we came, on the East side of the town--”

As Sairy manages to absorb absolutely none of this, the doctor pushes back the flap of a large tent and ushers Sairy inside. “If you’ll step over into this section, we’ve got a little private area set up. You take your shirt and your trousers off, I’ll check you over for any injuries, and then we’ll go from there.”

Sairy steps into the little private section--it looks like a shower stall made of hastily-erected PVC pipes and a bedsheet--and starts unlacing their boots as they listen to Sam, Runner Eight, and the doctor chatting outside. They wonder what the local black market looks like. If they’re going to be a runner, they’re going to need some sneakers, not these big heavy things. Maybe they can ask Runner Eight. She of the piercing eyes and the sharp smile.

On second thought, maybe they can ask Sam.

Or maybe they can just run in the boots until something comes up. That’s probably the most likely option, to be honest. Speech is not Sairy’s strong point.

They’re only wearing their camouflage pants ( _no, not pants, trousers, you’re in the U.K. now, Sairy_ ) when Myers says “Knock, knock” and peers around the sheet. Sairy turns self-consciously, still holding their shirt. Myers puts a firm but gentle hand on their elbow and spins them in a full circle.

“No injuries up top,” she says. “Take your trousers off for a minute, let me check your legs, and you’ll be good to go.” Sairy does as she asks. Doctor Myers’s eyes flicker to the scars on Sairy’s stomach, but to her credit, she doesn’t ask about them, just turns Sairy in another circle to examine their legs. She spends a minute checking a minor scrape on their left knee, but determines that their skin wasn’t broken, just bruised, and leaves Sairy to get dressed again.

As Sairy laces up their boots, they hear the other three break into laughter. They look down at their hands and focus on tying the neatest bows possible.

All right. Sarelle Williams is alone in unknown territory. No allies, no instructions, and no clue what the hell they’ve gotten themself into. Their potential allies: A sweet man with a smile that can light up a room and a cheerful doctor with a CDC box. Unknowns: The cold-eyed Janine DeLuca and Runner Eight, who is probably going to come after them for answers, but who also knows about Project Greenshoot. Which, to be completely honest, is more than Sairy does.

Their assets: Too-heavy boots, military dog tags, and a speech center that’s so tangled by trauma that Sairy can’t figure out why the brass would pick them to go on an important mission like this in the first place.

Not much to go on. But there’s nothing to do except keep moving forward. Sairy’s gotten good at that by now. Keep going, no matter how bad things get.

They stand up and push the curtain aside.


	2. New Shoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five gets some new shoes.  
> Takes place after Episode 2: Distraction.

“Oh, Five and I are good friends now, aren’t we, Five?” Runner Eight claps Sairy on the shoulder as they jog through the gate together. “Can’t wait to do lots more runs together.” Sairy tries to smile, but between their general awkwardness and the fact that Eight definitely just threatened to shoot them in the head out of general suspiciousness, it comes out as more of a panicked grimace. Luckily for them, Eight has to turn away to cough violently, and Sairy edges away.

“Hmm,” Sam says over the radio, not sounding impressed. “Well, maybe not right away. There are reports of a child out in zom territory. Five, rest up. We’ll need you to do another fast run as soon as you can.”

Sairy nods, even though Sam can’t see them. Physical gestures don’t communicate anything over the radio.  _ Sure thing, Sam, I’ll lie down for a couple minutes and then I’ll be ready, _ they don’t say, because why would they be able to use words like a regular human being? They sigh softly through their nose.

Apparently, it carries through the microphone, because Sam says, “Great. I’ll radio you as soon as we know more.”

Sairy tries the sigh again, and it seems to work as an acquiescence. Sam doesn’t demand any further clarification, anyway. Interesting. That’s a good trick to remember. Sairy turns toward the runners’ break room, only to find Eight standing in front of them, giving them her signature piercing look.

“Not much of a talker, are you?” she asks. Sairy shrugs uncomfortably and tries to edge around her. Eight turns and walks beside them, as casual and calm as if she’s never implied that she’s ready and willing to murder Sairy at any given moment. “Why is that? Not hiding anything, are we?”

Sairy shrugs again, even stiffer this time. Eight is trying to shepherd them into the empty alleys between the buildings, and Sairy does  _ not _ want to hear more threats. Sairy squares their shoulders and bulldozes their way straight to the door of the runners’ break room, ignoring Eight’s narrowed eyes and tightening lips. Hopefully there’s someone in there, anyone at all to put between her and this woman with a smile like knives and a personality to match--

Two faces turn to look at Sairy and Eight as they enter. One of them belongs to a man on a couch, who could probably be described as “Adonis-like” if Adonis had a serious manspreading problem. Simon something, Sairy thinks, but they can’t remember his runner number. The other person in the room is deeply involved in a tangle of yarn, and only spares a moment to smile at them before turning back to her needles. Sairy can’t remember her name at all. There have been a lot of introductions over the last twenty-four hours.

“Hey, Runner Five,” says Simon Whatshisname lazily. “Sara. How was your run?”

Inside, Sairy is melting with relief. On the outside, they give a short nod and move over to the stretching area. Sam says that someday there’ll be yoga mats and bungee cords and, like, one of those big yoga ball things, honest, Five, it’s going to be great, but for now it’s just an empty space with a threadbare carpet. Sairy pulls their boots off and starts stretching their hamstrings.

“Oh, it was just great, Simon,” Sara says, leaning on the back of the knitting person’s chair. “Five and I are becoming real bosom companions.”

“Well, isn’t that good to hear,” Simon replies. Sairy can hear the ghost of a leer in his voice. They bend down and grab their toes, trying to stretch out their calves.

They wore every pair of socks they owned (all two of them) to try and keep the too-big boots from rubbing, but they’re still starting to develop a blister on their right heel. That can’t be good. Open wounds are a great way for the zombie virus to get into their system. They’re just going to have to ask someone about getting new shoes. It’s just a matter of opening their mouth, putting the words together, and saying them. Simple. Easy. Absolutely impossible.

“Oh, shut it, Simon,” says the knitting woman. She has a nice accent. Sairy isn’t familiar enough with UK diction to place it properly. Scottish, maybe? “Just because Sara said the word ‘bosom’--”

A knock on the door interrupts them. Sairy looks up. It’s Doctor Myers, and she’s carrying--

“Is Five in here?” the doctor asks. Sairy straightens, and the doctor smiles. “Hi, there! So I noticed you were wearing boots when you arrived here, and that’s not really good footwear for a runner, so I figured these would make a good ‘Welcome to Abel’ present.” She steps forward, holding out the ugliest pair of sneakers Sairy has ever seen.

They’re neon orange, with bright green laces. They’re an absolute mess of faux leather and netting and some kind of glittery plastic. There’s a purple rubber bead shaped like a cartoon sea turtle strung onto the laces of the left one. It looks like someone made a list of the most hideous things you could find on a piece of clothing and put them all into a single pair of shoes.

Sairy loves them immediately.

“What the hell are those?” asks Simon, revolted. Myers ignores him with a considerable amount of dignity.

“You’ll have to try them on,” she continues, as though he hadn’t spoken. She walks around the couch to Sairy, still holding the shoes out. “I think they’re probably your size, but we should check. And I’m sorry they’re not, uh, the prettiest, but we had limited options--”

“I don’t think Five minds,” the knitting woman interjects drily.

Sairy realizes that they’re smiling. They’re immediately self-conscious because it feels lopsided and weird, but they can’t quite stop, even though their ears are burning under the attention. They gently take the shoes from Myers’s hands and pinch the turtle bead. These are  _ so ugly. _ God, they’re incredible. Sairy looks up at Myers, who’s smiling back at them, and ducks their head again. Then they raise it to thank her, and then the words don’t come out and they look down at the shoes again, and oh god they’re a tangled mess and Myers is going to think they’re not grateful for this and they  _ love _ these, these are the best thing they’ve had since the apocalypse but what is the doctor going to think--

The doctor’s hand touches their shoulder and squeezes. “Try them on,” she advises again.

Sairy is so eager to comply that they fumble with the laces and it takes them twice as long as it should to get them untied. They’re desperately conscious of everyone staring at them as they do so, and they nearly fall over trying to pull the right sneaker on and oh god they look like an idiot--but Doctor Myers grabs their arm and holds them steady as they finish pulling the sneakers on and waits patiently while they tie the (desperately, horrifically green) laces.

Sairy stands up and examines their own feet. The sneakers fit perfectly over a single pair of socks, like a second (neon orange) skin. They wiggle their toes. The turtle bobs up and down over their left arch.

Sairy is smiling again, awful and crooked, and shaking with silent laughter. These are  _ the best thing ever. _ God, this is embarrassing.

“They fit?” Myers asks.

Sairy nods, biting their lip to try and tame that stupid smile. They glance up at Myers, who grins right back.

“Good. The last thing we want is for our runners to get blisters. I’ve got to get back to the med tent, Jack’s in there with a twisted ankle, but--I’m glad you like them.”

Sairy tries to convey all their gratitude in a look. They doubt they got it right, but Myers seems to understand.

“See you around, Five, Eight, Jodie. Simon, you owe me a checkup, so don’t you dare skip like you did last time” the doctor says, pointing threateningly at Simon as she leaves the room.

“Oh, I’d never skip out on you, Maxie,” Simon purrs, but she’s already gone. He turns back to give Sairy’s new sneakers the same skeptical looks that Eight and the knitting woman--Jodie?--are wearing.

Sairy looks down at their deliciously horrible neon feet. “You, er… you’re happy with those, then?” Eight asks.

“Honestly, I think Five’s in love,” Simon says sagely. “Look at that smile.”

Sairy can feel the blush like a tide of magma in their cheeks, and their grin feels extra lopsided and awful, like a gash across their face. Maybe they’ll just curl up and die into these wonderfully horrendous shoes. Maybe they’ll melt into a puddle and soak through the floor. Why won’t everyone stop staring? Why won’t they  _ stop? _

To Sairy’s very great surprise, Eight actually does stop. She shrugs and kicks Simon in the ankle, drawing his attention away from Sairy. “Well, to each their own,” she says. “Budge up, Simon. Let the rest of us have some room.” Simon shifts over, grumbling all the way, and the knitting woman laughs, and now the attention is off Sairy and they can sink down into a lotus position before their knees give way.

They’ll have to think of some way to thank the doctor. And also some way to avoid Runner Eight. And a way to never get stared at again, ever.

They pinch the turtle bead on their left sneaker again.

Before any of those things, though, they’ll need to test out these new shoes.


	3. Over the Radio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Runner Five is not Alice.
> 
> Takes place after Episode 4: A Lost Child.

Sam guides Runner Five home, still a little unnerved by the silence on the other end of the line. He’s glad when they pass through the gates and slow to a jog. It’s always a nice feeling to have all of his runners home safe. If it also means that he doesn’t have to listen to voiceless footsteps from the line he still thinks of as Alice’s, well, no one has to know.

“Good work, Five,” he says through the mic. He starts to tidy his area. “Ugh, time to write reports. You know what, forget feeling relieved and relaxing; let’s have another run.”

The soft huff of laughter unbalances him a little. It’s a single breath, no vocals, but for a second his brain whispers, “ _ Alice _ ,” and he’s turning up the volume without even thinking about it. But there’s no follow up, no joke in return. He looks at the cams. There’s Five, tall and wiry, stretching their hamstrings by the gate. Are they laughing? Are they even smiling? Sam can’t tell. He can’t read this Five. Not like he could with Alice.

Alice was never this quiet. She would talk back, make jokes, laugh out loud. Sam’s not even really sure that this new Five  _ can _ speak. The doc has been muttering to herself about mutism and hearing loss and potential crash-induced brain damage. Five seems fine, though, and they’ve been communicating all right in person through expressions and gestures; but those don’t come through the radio, and Sam occasionally finds himself cranking up Five’s mic to try and hear the voice that he knows isn’t there any more.

He watches on the screen as the little girl who caused this whole mission toddles around the yard. Her dad is keeping a firm eye on her even as he talks with Janine, but she’s still bouncing around and having fun. When she sees Five, she wobbles her way across the hard-packed dirt as fast as her chubby legs can carry her. Five kneels down as she arrives. That’s… that’s definitely a smile. Probably. It’s hard to tell with the grainy footage.

He knows it’s not fair to blame the new Five for not being Alice. It’s not their fault, and he was the one to call them Five in the first place. But he can’t help but feel like the bottom of his stomach is dropping out every time one of those unfamiliar breaths comes through the radio.

Sam can hear Molly chattering away through Five’s mic. He turns up the volume again, smiling. He loves kids. He wants, like, eight someday. He sees Molly hold her rabbit up to Five’s face. Five is definitely smiling now. 

“What’s his name?” Five asks.

At that volume, Five’s voice hits him like a train. It’s low and hoarse, like it hasn’t been used in a long time, but it’s also gentle. Like… like gravel made of marshmallows, or something.

Their voice is nothing like Alice’s.

Sam grips the edge of the desk so hard it hurts.

Molly presses her rabbit’s face against Five’s cheek and makes a loud kissing sound. Five gasps delightedly, exaggeratedly. Their voice is still too quiet for anyone but Molly to hear. Molly and Sam, sitting alone in the comms shack.

He thought he had finished grieving over Alice. He thought he had moved past the first bit, where everything hurt and nothing would ever be all right again. But right now, hearing that new voice--the voice that is not, and will never be Alice--come up the line sends new waves of pain crashing over him.

“Thank you,” they say. Alice’s voice was like a flute, high and fast and sliding effortlessly through octaves. This is deeper, slower. Even through the crackle of disuse, Five’s voice is resonant and bittersweet. Not Alice at all.

Forget today’s report. He can write it later. Sam rips off his headphones and leaves the shack at a sprint. He’s not even quite sure where he’s going until he reaches the entry flap of the med tent. He pushes it open heedlessly and heads inside.

Doctor Myers is sitting alone at her desk, making notes on a supply list. She looks over her shoulder as he enters, and frowns. “Sam? Are you all right?”

Sam stands there in the entryway. He has no idea what to say. “Um… so Five can talk.” This revelation doesn’t make the doc look any less concerned. Sam wipes one sleeve across his face. “So that’s a relief. You can stop, uh, worrying about brain damage now.”

The doc crosses to him and lays one hand on his shoulder. Sam squeezes his eyes shut. He can feel the tears leaking out anyway.

“They’re… they’re not Alice.” He doesn’t really know how to put this any better. He’s not even sure if what he’s saying makes sense. “They’re just… not Alice.”

But Maxine seems to understand, and she draws him into a tight hug. Sam lays his head on her shoulder and cries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild sad, a la the rest of Zombies, Run! Thought we'd get a chapter from Sam's POV.  
> I won't be writing a chapter for every single episode, but I will when I can think of things that work.


	4. It's Not New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five can speak. It's just... hard.
> 
> Takes place after Episode 5: Paul Revere

There was a moment when Sairy and Runner Eight had to fight their way through zoms while they were escaping the horde, so they both have to get quarantine exams when they get back to Abel. Eight goes first, stripping down with a casual nonchalance that has Sairy flushing red with embarrassment and maybe a tiny bit of, uh, let’s call it “jealousy” and not think about that  _ ever _ again, thanks very much. All of which is to say that Sairy sits awkwardly on one of the salvaged plastic chairs while the doc does her thing with Eight behind the curtain. Sairy clasps their hands loosely in their lap and contemplates their delightfully horrible orange sneakers.

“All right, Sara, looks like you’re good,” comes Doctor Myers’s voice. Eight emerges from behind the privacy screen with her shirt still off. Sairy is suddenly extremely interested in finding out which toe they can wiggle to make the little purple turtle on their shoelace look like it’s swimming. Eight, apparently, thinks this is  _ funny _ .

“Oh, come on, Five, you’re not afraid of a little skin, are you?” she asks, grinning. This smile isn’t quite as knife-edged as a lot of the others, but Sairy’s face is currently burning with embarrassment and they’re not ready to start interpreting the subtleties of Eight’s threatening expressions. Eight laughs and pulls on her shirt. “What’s the matter, Five? Cat got your tongue?”

Sairy opens their mouth to tell her to fuck  _ right _ off, but the words get confused and their brain panics and what comes out is some weird, half-strangled squawk that sounds like a cross between a pubescent boy and a lap dog and oh god Sairy is in their own personal Hell right now fuck this fuck them fuck  _ everything _

Sairy jerks out of their seat and stalks stiffly to the changing area. They yank the curtains closed and cover their burning face. It would be great if the ground could just open and swallow them right now. Or if they could melt into a puddle and sink into the dirt. Or if their flaming cheeks could just ignite and take the rest of them up in a sheet of fire.  _ Jesus, what a freak, if you could just behave like a normal human being that would be fantastic-- _

Myers’s voice comes from the other side of the sheet, soft and reproachful. “That wasn’t very fair, Sara.”

Runner Eight sighs. “No, I guess it wasn’t,” she says. Then she calls, “Sorry, Five, that was out of line.”

Sairy has  _ zero _ idea what to do.  _ It’s fine, _ they don’t say, because it’s not really fine and anyway their vocal cords have pretty much locked up. In the absence of any other options, they pull off their shoes and shirt and tug the curtain back a little to indicate to the doc that they’re ready. Myers peeks around the curtain with a worried-but-speculative expression on their face. Sairy yanks off their trousers and stands with their arms crossed over their stomach, too embarrassed and ashamed to look the doctor in the eye.

Myers’s hands are gentle as she examines Sairy’s arms and torso. At first she’s quiet, but eventually she says, “So I know this is a pretty intrusive question, but I  _ am _ the doctor.” She straightens and looks Sairy in the eye. “I just want to make sure that the whole… ‘not speaking’ thing isn’t the result of an injury. That you didn’t hit your head in the helicopter crash or something, and we’re just not treating you for it.”

And Sairy thought their face was red before. They squeeze their eyes shut and shake their head, holding up their hands.  _ It’s not an injury, it’s a long-standing cocktail of trauma and anxiety that’s been majorly exacerbated by the zombie apocalypse, _ they don’t say, because telling your doctor about important medical information is overrated and for functional people.

Myers nods and bends to examine a bruise on Sairy’s shin. Sairy takes a minute to breathe. They can do this. They know they’re capable of this. It just takes effort. And time.

Myers moves around behind them to examine their calves. Sairy tilts their head back and stares at the ceiling, trying to imagine that they’re speaking to Molly, or maybe one of the Abel dogs. Children and animals are so much easier to talk to. So much less threatening.

“‘s just mental.” Sairy’s voice is a croak. They can feel Myers looking sharply up and them. They ignore it and focus on pretending that there’s no one else in the room. “Preexisting. Don’t worry about it.”

There’s more that should be said, but that appears to be the extent of their verbal capacity for the day. They shrug and flex their fingers nervously, not looking back at the doctor.

Myers stands and claps them gently on the shoulder. “That’s good to know,” she says quietly. “Unfortunately, we don’t have any therapists at Abel--it was hard enough to find a good one before the apocalypse, and now…” She sighs. “But if you ever need someone to talk to…”

Sairy shakes their head sharply. They try to soften the gesture by shrugging, but they probably mostly just look like they’re having a seizure. They try to smile wryly at Myers.  _ It’s fine. I’m managing. _ It feels crooked and wrong. God, everything about this whole communication is a disaster. Maybe they should start over.

Myers smiles back. “Thank you for telling me,” she says. “At least that makes me feel less worried.” She hands Sairy’s shirt back to them. “You’re good to go,” she says, louder now. “You and Runner Eight should both go get some food. You did a great job today, Five.” She slips out of the privacy area with a wink.

Oh, Jesus, Runner Eight was out there the whole time. Sairy dresses quickly and tries to smooth their hair down. How much did she hear? How much is she going to use for leverage? Is she going to just decide that maybe it’s better to shoot Sairy in the head? Or to tell everyone that Sairy’s a mentally screwed-up freak who can’t even communicate right?

When they push the curtain back, though, Eight smiles at them. It’s only got one, maybe two knives in it. For Eight, that’s practically gentle. Sairy tries an awkward smile back.

“Come on, Five, I’m starving,” Eight announces. “We’d better get to the mess hall before Sam does, otherwise there won’t be anything left.” She slings her arm around Five’s shoulder and guides them out of the tent, offering a lazy wave in response to Myers’s hollered goodbye. “I really am sorry,” she says, more quietly. They weave between the tents, following the smell of spam and potatoes. “That was nasty of me. I’ll try not to do it again.”

Sairy’s too surprised to think through their reaction, which is a shrug and a flap of the hand Their brain starts criticizing the gesture as soon as it’s completed, but Eight hands them a tray with a grin and a wink, and they distract themselves with whatever this weird casserole is that the cooks are ladling out for them.

Eight drags them over to the runners’ table and plunks them down between Jodie and Simon, where they can sit and listen in on the variety of conversations going on while they eat.

It’s not half bad.


	5. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five is alone in the wilderness.
> 
> Takes place after Episode 6: Supply Run

Sairy knows the second it all goes to shit. The machine gun rattles through the trees, the soldiers step out around them, and Sam tells them in a panicked voice to run. They do. Faster than they’ve ever gone, slipping between the closing ranks and into the forest. Bullets pelt the trees around them, and they duck, stumbling for a second, and a tree branch smacks into their face and nearly pulls their headset off, but they grab it and keep running in a full-fledged panic until the shouts of the soldiers and the sound of gunfire have faded into the distance. Only when they can’t hear anything do they slow to a jog, then to a walk, feeling their heart pounding against their ribs.

They put their headset back on. There’s only static. These things are unreliable at the best of times--that tree branch must have pulled a wire loose. Sairy pushes a horrible curl of fear down and looks around.

They don’t know where they are. They’re lost in the woods, and--they look up--the sun is starting to go down. They turn around. Maybe they can retrace their steps, avoid the soldiers.

Three zoms are on their tail. They’re shambling slowly, and Five can outpace them without a problem, but--it means that going back isn’t an option. They turn and keep running.

They run for hours. They try to curve around towards where they think Abel is, but they don’t recognize any of the landmarks. Their slow jog is enough to keep the zoms behind them, but they can’t keep up this pace forever. And they’re picking up new zombies along the way. The pack behind them is eleven strong now. And it’s almost full dark.

Sairy is going to die.

They push down the fear again. Losing their cool and sprinting headlong into the woods is only going to tire them out faster. There has to be a hill or something around here, a high place that they can use to orient themself. They ball their fists and keep running.

It’s full dark by the time they find a hill high enough to see over the surrounding trees. There’s nothing visible out there. They can hear the groans of the zombies climbing toward them. They’re going to--

“Runner Five? Runner Five, come in, Runner Five.”

It’s Sam. The signal is staticky, but it’s Sam’s voice coming through their headset.

Sairy taps on their mic three times.

“Runner Five, come in. Runner Five?”

Five tries again. Nothing.

“Runner Five?”

“Sam,” Sairy says. Their voice crackles.

No response.

The zombies are nearly at the top of the hill. Sairy turns and runs.


	6. Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five is definitely completely compos mentis and anyone who says otherwise is a filthy liar.
> 
> Takes place after Episode 7: A Voice in the Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a two-part update! If you haven't read the last chapter, go back and read that first.

Sairy sprints the last few metres and nearly collapses onto the dirt of the yard. They brace their hands on their knees and take in massive gulps of air. Behind them, the gates squeal shut to the accompaniment of gunfire.

“They’ve got you, Runner Five! You’re home!” Sam’s voice is choked with joy. Sairy hears a clatter through the headset, and then the door to the comms shack bursts open and he dashes out, his absurdly silky hair shining in the spotlights as he runs to them. Sairy tries to straighten, tries to throw up a salute, but Sam doesn’t stop and nearly bowls them over in the tightest hug they’ve gotten since the apocalypse. Well, the only hug. Also the nicest.

Sairy claps one arm around Sam’s shoulders and wheezes quietly.

Sam pulls back as abruptly as he arrived. “Oh, god, I’m sorry--I shouldn’t have--I don’t know if you even like hugs, I just--I’m so glad you’re alive.” He’s crying a little bit. Sairy reaches out and nervously clasps his shoulder.  _ Say something, say something, thank him for talking to you, he saved your life, he kept you from having a panic attack and sprinting straight into a nest of zoms, he guided you home even without knowing whether you were still alive, SAY SOMETHING to let him know how incredibly important what he just did was-- _

“We, uh,” Sairy rasps. “We’re friends.”

They can  _ feel _ the blush scorching their face and neck.  _ Oh, yeah, that definitely summed it all up. That wasn’t weird and awkward at all. Nice going, Sarelle. Such a conversationalist. _

But Sam’s face lights up. “You--you could hear me!”

Sairy nods, ears still burning. They liked being called Sam’s friend. Even if they haven’t really held a conversation. It was… it was nice. And it made them feel like their own life was worth saving. It gave them something to keep running for.

“Why didn’t you respond?” Sam demands, aggrieved and delighted in equal measures. “If I’d known you were alive, I would have tried harder--!” Sairy shakes their head and taps on their mic. Sam gives an enraged groan. “Seriously? Janine  _ just _ fixed that thing. Here, give it here, I’ll give it to her when she’s not so mad about the ice cream rolls.”

Five laughs at that one--actually laughs, with sound and everything. It’s cracked and awful and just as terrible as their crooked smile, and they stop immediately, but Sam is smiling back, all shining eyes and relief and friendly affection.

“Come on, we need to get you to the doc,” he says, squeezing their arm. “You need a quarantine exam, and a regular exam, and food and sleep. Come  _ on. _ ” He tugs their arm gently.

Sairy goes to follow him and nearly collapses in a tangle of limbs. Sam grabs them, looking alarmed, and pulls their arm over his shoulders to hold them up. It doesn’t work very well. He’s a lot smaller than they are.

“Jesus,” Sam says, staggering. “You must be exhausted, you’ve been running for hours. Come on, I’ll help you.”

Sairy grunts acquiescence and tries to get their feet under them. They’re not going to faint. That would be stupid. Their limbs just… aren’t working right. Yeah. They’ll be fine in just a minute, once everything stops being blurry and swimmy--

“Oh, crap,” they hear Sam say, faint and far away. “Um, a little help?”

Sairy feels something jostle them. Someone’s touching them. They would object, but everything is pleasantly warm and out of focus, and their head keeps lolling forward. So it’s nice that someone’s holding their body up so they can focus on trying to support the weight of their own face.

“Easy, there, Five.” They know that voice. It’s… someone. “Come on, Sam, help me lift them.”

There are voices around, and they’re moving somewhere. Their phenomenal shoes are dragging in the dirt, probably scuffing the orange plastic. They try to walk on their own. They’re definitely walking on their own. They can’t see much, everything’s gone black and spotty, but they’re most definitely walking now. They move one foot, and another foot, and then the rest of their feet…

Sairy opens their eyes. They are definitely not walking. They’re lying in a bed, staring up at Doctor Myers’s worried face.

They sit up fast, which is a mistake, because the world promptly goes mushy again. Luckily, the doctor grabs them by the shoulder and pushes them back down before they fall off the bed.

“None of that,” she scolds. “Just lie still. You’ve had a hell of a day and you’re in shock.” She feels Sairy’s forehead--her palm is wonderfully warm--and then holds their wrist to take their pulse. Her lips move as she counts.

Sairy’s right hand is the only part of them that’s not cold. They wiggle their fingers and feel an answering squeeze. Sairy turns their head. Sam Yao is sitting by the bed, his hands wrapped around theirs. Runner Eight is just behind him. For once, she’s not smiling.

“You’re gonna be all right, Five,” Sam says, pouring reassurance from every feature. His eyes are so warm they could melt lead. Then he looks up at Doctor Myers and asks, “They are gonna be all right, aren’t they, Doc?”

“They’ll be fine, Sam.” Doctor Myers pulls Sairy’s face back around and shines a penlight into their eyes. Where did she even get a penlight in the middle of the apocalypse? “Did you get injured at all out there, Five? Any scratches?” Five shakes their head slightly, feeling their cheeks squish against the doctor’s fingers. It’s a weird sensation. They wonder if they look like a fish with their cheeks all squished. The doctor releases them, frowning.

“Any bites?” Sam whips his head around to throw a betrayed look at Runner Eight, who shrugs and pins Sairy to the bed with her gaze. “It’s a fair question, Sam. Runner Five was out there all alone, in the dark, with no one keeping track of them. Anything could have happened.”

Sairy shakes their head again, grateful for the lack of fishy feeling. When Eight looks skeptical, they hold their left arm out, turning it over for inspection. Their right hand is too warm in Sam’s grasp to move. When that doesn’t make Eight look any more cheerful, they try to lift one of their legs for examination, but it’s too heavy and the effort makes them see spots.

Eight looks even more concerned now than when she asked the question in the first place, and so does Sam. Sairy tries to remember whether lifting your legs is a sign of impending zombification. They don’t think it is. In fact, they seem to remember that knee lifts make zombies particularly enraged. Maybe Eight and Sam are concerned that they’re going to enrage any nearby zombies if they lift their legs. Eight can run away just fine, but Sam shouldn’t have to deal with zombies. He’s too soft, and his hair smells too nice. They’ll chase him down and eat him. Five squeezes Sam’s hand.  _ I won’t let zombies chase you down and eat you _ , they don’t say, because Sam’s face appears to be receding into a tunnel now and he won’t hear them.

“I won’t let zombies chase you down and eat you, either, Five” Sam’s voice says, bemused and slightly echoey.

Oh. Maybe they did say it. At least he heard it all the way down there.

“All right, that’s enough. Five needs rest, and so do you,” says Doctor Myers’s voice. It’s strangely muffled. Sairy would look to see why the doctor is talking through a mouthful of marshmallows, but their eyes seem to have closed without them realizing it.

The last thing they hear before they fall asleep is Runner Eight saying, “I have to admit: That was a hell of a run.”


	7. Harry Potter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five does some good.
> 
> Takes place after Episode 9: Recovery

Sairy is on a supply run, and they can’t get the sound of the helicopter pilot turning out of their head.

Sam’s voice on the radio is a respite. “Hey, Five. So some of the guys at the base are trying something out, and, well--I have to listen to it, so… so do you.” Sairy snorts. They can hear Sam smiling as he continues, “So, let me just patch them through…”

Jack and Eugene seem like nice guys. Five’s pretty sure they recognize Eugene’s voice, though they can’t put a face to Jack.

They can still hear the sound of the helicopter pilot choking on her last breath.

The show is pretty funny. Eugene tells a story about how his trousers fell down while he was crossing the quad this morning, and Sairy  _ definitely _ knows Eugene, because he nearly knocked them over when he fell down trying to cover his boxers. Sairy held his crutch with their eyes tightly shut while he leaned on their shoulder and redid his belt, shaking their head at his embarrassed apologies, feeling themself turning red as Simon whooped and hooted from across the yard.

The rattle of the pilot’s first undead moan still echoes in their ears.

They don’t know what to do about it. Other people don’t seem to have these problems with the undead. People seem so… blase about meeting up with people who aren’t people any more. Maybe they aren’t, but it seems that way to Sairy, whose head is still ringing with the sounds of coughing and groaning.

And then something cuts through the haze.

“Amy and Amber,” Eugene is saying.

“They take care of Abel’s kids,” Jack cuts in.

“Yeah,” Eugene agrees. “They say, ‘If anyone has any copies of Harry Potter books three through seven, we will trade literally anything for them. We’ve read the first two two the kids, and now they won’t stop begging us for the rest. Please, please help us.’”

Sairy slows to a jog for a moment. The soft moan of the undead behind them kicks them into a run again, but they’re thinking about other things now.

They tap twice on the microphone of their headset.

“Five?” Sam asks. “Is something up?”

They twist the words around their mouth before forcing them out. “Any bookstores nearby?”

It’s not as hard as they expected. They still hate the sound of their own voice, but talking to Sam is… fine. They can say or not say whatever they need to and Sam will be okay with it.

“Oh. Oh!” Sam exclaims. “Yes! I mean, hang on, let me check…” Sairy hears him muttering to himself. “Okay, yeah, there’s one a couple blocks from you. If you turn right at the next intersection, then you’ll be heading straight for it.” Five speeds up and takes his directions.

\------

Sairy arrives back at Abel feeling like their spine is going to break. These are the heaviest goddamn books on the planet, J.K. seriously should have gotten an editor, whose dumb idea was this, anyway…

“Nice work, Five!” Sam’s voice says over the radio. “That was amazing--the way you jumped clear over those zoms in the fiction aisle? And how you just beheaded that one at the information desk, cool as you please--well, okay that was pretty gruesome, but still, you were just swinging like some kind of action movie hero! And--”

“Mr. Yao!” Janine’s voice is accompanied by the sound of the comms shack door slamming open. Looking over, Sairy can see her stalking into the corrugated iron building.

“Oh, crap,” Sam mutters. “I bet she found out about the Marmite incident. Talk to you later, Five.” The signal goes dead.

Sairy closes their eyes and tries to hold in a burst of laughter. It’s a new feeling. A nice one.

They make their way through Abel, nodding at people as they pass. They’re bizarrely…  _ popular _ here. People know their name, and their face, and seem to actually like them. It’s a major change from Mullins Base, where they were another silent face in a sea of expendables. Of course, it means that they’ll have to keep finding supplies so that this popularity keeps up, but… that’s something that they’re willing, even happy, to do.

The school is a small, hastily-erected structure made from corrugated iron that’s been painted bright colors. Sairy stands in front of the door and tries to work up the nerve to knock.

_ What if they don’t want them anymore? What if someone’s already donated the whole set of books, and I just look like an idiot? What if they slam the door in my face? _

Before they can quell this storm of worries, the door opens. Sairy blinks, heart pounding. A young woman with short blonde hair peers out.

“Hi,” she says. “Runner Five, right? Did you need something?”

Sairy blanks completely. Why are they here? Why are they anywhere? What are words? What is talking? Maybe they should have just--

A small body latches onto Sairy’s shin. They look down to see Molly, clutching her rabbit, gazing up at them adoringly and spilling over with nonsense words. She sits down on Sairy’s foot, clearly intending to stay there for a while.

Sairy pulls off their backpack and pulls out  _ Prisoner of Azkaban _ . They hold it out wordlessly to the young woman in the door.

“Oh!” The woman grabs it. “You have--oh, thank goodness. Amy!” Another woman, this one with thick-rimmed glasses and short, natural hair, appears behind the blonde, who must be Amber. “Amy, look, Runner Five’s found  _ Prisoner of Azkaban _ \--”

Sairy pulls out  _ Goblet of Fire _ and hands that over, too. Then  _ Deathly Hallows _ , then  _ Half-Blood Prince _ , and finally--with a certain amount of struggle, as it’s the biggest of the lot-- _ Order of the Phoenix _ . Amy takes over when Amber can’t hold any more, looking like she might cry with joy.

“Oh, my god,” she says hoarsely. “What do you want for these? Literally, we’ll trade anything we’ve got--”

Sairy shakes their head and raises their hands. Amy’s head snaps up. Amber looks bewildered.

“But--but we can’t just take them from you,” she says. “I mean, it’s--it’s too much.”

Sairy shrugs and looks down at their feet. Molly grins up from around their left knee. They lift their foot into the air, swinging Molly gently up and down as she squeals with delight.

“Come on, you--” Amber tries to pull Molly off, but the little girl clings tighter to Sairy’s trouser leg and yells. Amber huffs angrily.

“You’ve at least got to meet the kids,” Amy says decisively. “They’ve got to know who these came from. Come on.” She grabs Sairy’s sleeve and pulls them inside.

Sairy clumps in, Molly making squeaky sounds of delight with every step. It’s warm inside, and noisy with children’s voices. Amy walks ahead of them. “Hey, everyone!” she hollers. “Look what Runner Five brought us!”

There’s a momentary lull in the chatter as a dozen young heads turn to look. Then one of the older girls shrieks, “Harry Potter!”

All hell breaks loose immediately. The children swarm around the three adults, demanding to be read to immediately, wanting to know where the books came from, wanting to see the covers and hear the titles. Sairy somehow gets swept to the “story area,” a small collection of beanbags and carpets arranged in a rough semicircle. They end up sitting cross-legged in a crowd of children with Molly on their lap and a variety of kids sitting at various degrees of attentiveness around them.

“All right,” says Amber, settling onto a three-legged stool. “Chapter One…”

\------

Sam leaves the comms shack nearly an hour after his scheduled shift is over, trying to stretch out the kink in his back. He should really stop hunching over the equipment all the time. It’s not like they have any chiropractors left to help if he really damages himself.

Thinking longingly of dinner, he wanders through Abel, smiling and greeting people as he goes. As he passes the schoolhouse, he’s struck with a desire to see if Five has delivered the books yet. He sneaks up to the door (well, tries to sneak; he may or may not trip over his own feet going up the steps, so he’s not exactly a ninja, but whatever) and cracks it open.

Amber is sitting on a stool and reading aloud. The children are enchanted, staring at her with varying expressions of horror and delight on their faces, and in the middle of them--

Sam has to stifle a startled laugh as he sees Runner Five sitting in the middle of the crowd, wearing the same rapt expression as the kids. They have Molly in their lap and another kid leaning against their arm, with a third one tugging absently on their shoelaces. They laugh when the kids laugh, and gasp when the kids gasp, and make exaggeratedly outraged faces when the kids erupt into fury at Aunt Marge’s nasty comments.

Sam only realizes that he’s been leaning against the doorframe and watching Five for several minutes when Amber snaps the books shut and declares that storytime is over for the day. The kids all try to shout her down, but she remains firm. “We’ve gotten through four whole chapters today,” she says, “and it’s time for all of us to eat supper. Come on, all of you. To the mess hall.”

Sam folds his arms and watches as Five stands up. They smile down at the kid who was leaning on their arm, who seem to be launching into an impassioned speech on why Harry should absolutely not run away from his aunt and uncle, because there were probably zombies in the streets and he might get bitten.

Sam catches Five’s eye and gives a little wave. They slowly extricate themself from the crowd of children and come over.

“I see you got the books here all right,” he says, holding the door for them. Five nods. “That was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. I think you’ve got fans,” he says.

Five shrugs and looks away. Their ears are turning red. Sam grins. “I mean, it makes sense. You’re, like, the most popular person here,” he says earnestly. “Like, legitimately the coolest. And you keep doing heroics and awesome stunts--”

Five squeezes their eyes shut and flaps their hands dismissively at him. He laughs and shoves their shoulder. “Anyway, have you eaten yet?” he asks. When they shake their head, he gestures toward the mess hall. “Come on, then. I’m starved.”

“Thank you for the books, Five!” Amber yells as they leave. It’s echoed by twelve young voices in various degrees of shriek. Five waves over their shoulder without turning around; it probably looks super cool from behind, but Sam can see that they’re blushing like mad.

“All right, big hero,” he says, setting off. “Let’s go eat.”

Five scoffs and rolls their eyes, but their face stays crimson and they’re hiding a smile.


	8. Swing Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The evening is cool, the zombies are distant, and Sam, Jack and Eugene have rigged up a speaker system and instigated an “old-fashioned dance party.”
> 
> No particular episode.

The evening is cool, the zombies are distant, and Sam, Jack and Eugene have rigged up a speaker system and instigated an “old-fashioned dance party.” Sairy quickly realizes that this isn’t just a figure of speech--they have a three-disc set of 1950s doo-wop music and have it on shuffle. Several Abel residents have started trying to perform what passes for “old-fashioned” dancing.

The doctor is trying to teach Sam to swing dance. It’s not going very well--Sam doesn’t appear to have any sort of control over his own limbs, and Doctor Myers is clearly not used to leading. She tries to lead him into a sugar push and he nearly falls over his own feet.

Sairy hovers nearby, debating.  _ Here, try relaxing your shoulders a little, _ they don’t say, because the doctor is already doing the teaching and wouldn’t it be rude to interrupt?  _ It’ll help your footwork if you stop locking your knees, _ they don’t say, because it’s really not their place to tell Sam what to do, and the doctor might get offended if they just break in--

“Hey, Doc!” calls a familiar voice right by their ear. They jump and look down into Eight’s razor smile. “Will you teach us, too?”

Before Sairy can properly parse that question, Eight has them by the wrist and is dragging them right up next to Sam and the Doctor Myers. Sam grins at the two of them. Sairy stands stiffly to attention, face getting hot.

“Show us that move again,” Eight says, grabbing Five’s hands.

The doctor laughs. “Yeah, all right,” she says. “So this is called a Sugar Push.”

“I’m sorry, a  _ what? _ ” asks Simon from her other side. “This I’ve got to learn. Jody, come here.”

“Is this going to be hard?” Jody asks. Simon sniggers, but stops when Jody kicks him in the ankle. Eight looks at Sairy and winks.

“No, a Sugar Push is really easy,” the doctor says. “Like this. The lead steps backwards on their left foot, and the follow comes forward on their right--”

“Who’s the lead?” Jody asks.

“Whoever’s hands are on the bottom.”

“Oh, well if you insist--” Simon breaks off with a yelp as Jody kicks him in the ankle again. “Steady on, I need my legs to run!”

Sairy gently shifts their hands into a lead position. Eight raises an eyebrow and grins. “Feeling assertive tonight, Five?”

Sairy can feel themself turning red, like a tide of fire rising from their chest. They look up and over the heads of the crowd. Eight squeezes their hands.

“Come on, Five, I’m just teasing,” she says. Sairy glances at her and looks away again. The doctor is still trying to demonstrate the Sugar Push. Sairy looks down at their feet.

They tap Eight’s right foot with their left toe and pull gently, stepping back. Eight follows, head tilted to one side. Sairy taps their right foot and takes another step. Eight follows. Sairy takes a third step, then stops. They look up at Eight and shift from foot to foot-- _ left, right, left. _ After a beat, Eight mirrors them.

Sairy gives a tiny smile, as un-crooked as they can make it. Eight’s eyes narrow, but there’s a smile playing on her lips as well. Sairy gulps and looks down again.

They tap Eight’s left foot and step slowly forward with their right, pressing against Eight’s hands. Eight moves backward for three steps, then follows Sairy as they shift back and forth again.

They do the whole thing again, this time without Sairy indicating the correct foot. Then again, a little faster. Eight looks hard at Sairy.

“Do you already know how to swing dance?” she asks.

Sairy nods once.  _ I used to go swing dancing all the time with my brother back in Minneapolis, _ they don’t say, because somehow Eight is still intimidating even when she’s trying to be nice. But they do start thinking about the next move they can show Eight.

The next time they start the move, Sairy lets go of Eight’s left hand and puts their other hands palm to palm. As Eight steps back, Sairy presses gently against that hand and touches Eight’s shoulder. Eight takes the hint and spins. Sairy catches her hand as it comes back around and pulls her into the next Sugar Push.

“Whoah, hey!” comes Simon’s voice, sounding indignant. “How come you two get to do the fancy moves?”

“I picked the partner who already knows how to dance,” gloats Eight, flashing her teeth at Simon. “Not my fault you were too slow.”

“Hey!” Jody protests.

“Sorry, Four,” Eight says cheerfully. “You were too slow, too.”

“Hey,” Sam interrupts, “maybe Five and Maxine could show us how this is actually supposed to look? You know, like a demonstration?”

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” says Simon thoughtfully.

“That’s true,” Eight agrees. She lets go of Sairy’s hand and pushes them toward the doctor. “Go on, you two. Show us how to swing dance.”

Five is left facing Doctor Myers as the song ends. They freeze. They didn’t mean to wreck her lesson, is she going to be mad at them, she might not even want to dance with them, how are they going to get out of this--

Doctor Myers smiles. “Are you a lead, or a follow?” she asks.

Another song starts up on the speakers. Sairy holds their hands out, palms upward.

The doctor laughs as she takes them. “Oh, good,” she says, leaning in confidentially. “To be totally honest, I’m a terrible lead.”

_ I’m an awful follow, _ Sairy doesn’t admit, because dancing is easier anyway. They pull the doctor into a Sugar Push and go from there.

It turns out that Doctor Myers is  _ really good _ at dancing. She takes Sairy’s directions easily, intuitively, and she’s light on her feet and smiling brightly. Sairy catches her humming along to the music as they pull her around into a spin and laughs.

“Life could be a dream, if I could take you up to Paradise up above…”

“Singing  _ and  _ dancing?” they mutter the next time they’re face-to-face.

The doc’s face lights up. “You’re not dancing  _ near _ hard enough to get me out of breath,” she says, mischief in her eyes.

And that’s a  _ challenge. _

Sairy ramps it up immediately. Faster turns, quicker moves, more spins--Maxine stops singing pretty quickly, but her smile only gets brighter, and Sairy can’t remember having this much  _ fun _ in ages. The two of them move around each other in perfect synchronicity. Maxine is great at providing enough counterweight to make things fun and swingy, but not so much that Sairy has to brace themself, and she’s quick enough on her feet that Sairy is too preoccupied coming up with the next move to worry about the horrible crooked smile that’s spreading across their face.

They finish off with one last big spin and the song ends. Sairy is suddenly aware of the whoops and hollers of the crowd around them, the crowd that has opened up and is  _ staring at them-- _

Their heart practically stops in their chest and they look down, the twisted smile fading as their ears start to burn.

Maxine squeezes their hands hard. They look up to find her beaming at them.

Someone thumps their back hard. They stagger forward and look around to find Simon right next to them. “That was amazing! Teach me how to do that, that last spin thing--”

“No, teach  _ me, _ ” says Jody, right behind him.

A strong arm snakes around Sairy’s waist and tugs them away from Simon. “Sorry, I got first dibs on this one,” Eight says. She grabs Five’s hands. “Let’s go. Show me that thing you did in the middle.”

Sairy glances over at Maxine, who is currently being mobbed by Simon, Jody, and Sam, and looks back at Eight. They open their mouth.  _ There were… a lot of things in the middle? _ they don’t say, but the message seems to get across anyway, because Eight grins fiercely. “ _ All _ of the things in the middle. Come on.”

Sairy catches Maxine’s eye. The doctor gives them an amusedly exasperated look. Sairy smiles tentatively back.

The next song has already started. Sairy turns back to Eight and slowly starts a new dance.


End file.
